


Vision

by Misanagi



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Dark, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-26
Updated: 2009-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:37:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misanagi/pseuds/Misanagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myrtle liked to look</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vision

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/sortinghatdrabs/profile)[**sortinghatdrabs**](http://community.livejournal.com/sortinghatdrabs/)

Myrtle liked to look. From behind her thick glasses she watched as the boys walked by. She watched them in class, watched them at the Hall, watched them play Quidditch and fight in the corridors, watched them in the rain, trying to run away from a storm.

They never saw her. No one really did and she hated it. Hated how they walked by, sometimes even bumping her without any acknowledgement and the few times they did see her it was to point and laugh. Myrtle _despised_ that.

There was one, though, a Slytherin boy she liked to watch especially. He saw her, noticed her watching and unlike the others he didn't laugh. Oh no, he stared back. His eyes were very much like Myrtle's, filled with hate, like the way she looked at all those boys that ignored her and Myrtle felt strangely attracted to that gaze, to the hate directed at her.

Tom. It wasn't a remarkable name but Myrtle knew better. She sometimes dreamt about them together, him grabbing her arms tightly, bruising, and the name would slip her lips like a dirty secret.

At night, with the curtains closed and the sound of the other girls sleeping she would touch herself, just a taste –no more than a taste- and think of the things she imagined he would do. They were never pleasant things.

The day she ran into the bathroom in tears she hadn't seen him at all. While she sat on the stool, sulking, she pictured him and the mental images of his eyes soothed her. When she came out it was because she thought she had heard his voice.

The eyes that looked back at her weren't his and they weren't filled with hate. Still, she couldn't help but stare back. After all, Myrtle liked to look.


End file.
